


love me also in silence

by weatheredlaw



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: Lup sprawled out on Lucretia’s bed and sighed. “I can’t believe you’re in love with that man.”“I’m not. I never said it.”“Oh,Lu.” Lup rolled over and looked at her. “You never had to.”or: Lucretia's father hires local craftsman Magnus Burnsides to paint their family portrait, and his presence turns her life completely upside down.





	love me also in silence

**Author's Note:**

> this entire story happened in a _whirlwind_. shout out to the magcretia discord for reading and editing this monstrosity, and to tumblr user marywhal for going over it with a red pen and helping me see things i didn't see before. all your efforts are appreciated!

_who can fear too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll_  
_too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?  
(say thou dost love me, love me, love me)_

 

* * *

 

It was early summer when Lucretia’s father decided to hire a local craftsman to paint their family portrait. Lucretia thought it to be rather poorly timed, as the weather was hot and _miserable_ throughout most of the day, and sitting for portraits required her to be laced up and sat ramrod straight in the _most_ uncomfortable chair their house maid could find. It was as close to torture as anything she could imagine.

Her siblings _lived_ for portrait sitting. Lup and Taako were performers first, nobility second, talented academics third. Whether they had an audience or not, everything was a production, and sitting for portraits allowed them to play a part -- for their last session, almost six years ago, Taako had convinced their father that he should wear a _hat_ , while Lup insisted on wearing the most egregious skirt ever conceived. None of this bothered their father, Captain Davenport, who simply enjoyed having paintings of their family to hang throughout the house, no matter how absurd they turned out to be.

The silver lining in all of this is that Lucretia could sit in her terribly uncomfortable chair, a number of books at her feet, and read all afternoon, unless the painter needed her to look up or turn slightly to the left.

At dinner, their father announced that he’d hired a local craftsman whose work came highly recommended.

“Amazing,” Davenport said. “Considering he makes _furniture._ ”

Lup snorted. “You hired a wood carver to paint our portrait?”

“Don’t be rude tomorrow,” Davenport said. “Mr. Burnsides is incredibly talented. He made that end table, just over there.”

“Yes,” Taako said dryly. “I thought you’d added a few new pieces of varnished mahogany to the foyer. Really makes a difference.” He took a long sip from his wine. “I suppose he can’t be worse than that _awful_ woman who did it the last time.” He turned to Lup. “What was her name?”

“I’ve forgotten.”

“As should we all,” Davenport said.

Lucretia took a sip of her wine. “Are you hiring every craftsman within a ten mile radius? You’ve had people in and out of the house for _weeks._ ”

Her father raised a brow. “This place is falling apart--”

“It’s _not_ ,” Taako muttered.

“--and it’s need of a bit of sprucing up is all.”

Taako sighed. “ _Or_ someone’s having a slow summer at work and decided to invent a project for himself to do.”

Davenport shrugged. “When one has money set aside for home repairs, it’s best that one _spends_ it.”

Lup raised her glass. “I love the idea. A toast to refreshing aesthetics then?”

Lucretia smiled. She’d drink to that.

 

* * *

 

The morning was spent choosing something to wear. Lup made a production out of it, when it seemed to matter. Lucretia liked to lounge in her bed, waiting for Lup to finish reorganizing her closet before choosing something with a neckline that Lucretia didn’t feel was appropriate for a portrait sitting.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You wore it to that gala in the winter, of all times.”

“It was for _sailors._ Cleavage was... _thematic._ ”

Lup shrugged. “Fair enough. You look fantastic in it though. Go on, try it, just for me.”

Lucretia sighed, and allowed herself to be laced up into the thing. “ _Loose_ ,” she said. “Not so _tight._ ”

“Oh _no_ ,” Lup said. “It’ll be such a pain to get off of you, you’ll just have to wear it.”

Lucretia turned to her. “I hate you,” she said, but it fell flat. She _did_ look wonderful in it -- the blue was a perfect contrast to her dark skin, and the cut of the dress never failed to turn heads.

Lup leaned in close and said, “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yes, always.”

“Next week, Lord Kravitz is back from his late spring, early summer trip to the coast, and I heard he’s throwing a party. You wear _that_ and we might marry you off yet.”

“I’m not interested in marriage.”

Lup waved a hand. “Marry you off, get you into bed, same thing.”

Lucretia sighed. “Your hopes for my future are, as always, _inspiring_. Thank you. You look wonderful, by the way.”

Lup looked down at her fire-red skirts and gave them a spin. “I _know_ ,” she said. “Taako’s wearing a horrendous vest, and I think we convinced Dav to wear that monocle he’s had lying around.

“No wonder people whisper about us when we go into town,” she muttered, turning to look at her reflection.

Lup nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Imagine what sins we’d need to commit if they _weren’t_ talking about us.”

 

* * *

 

When the painter finally arrived, Lucretia nearly mistook him for one of the craftsmen who was doing repairs to their garden wall that morning. His easel gave him away, of course, but he could have just as easily passed for one of the dock workers she met when she visited her father at work. The point was -- he didn’t _look_ like the painters they’d hired in the past and Lucretia...found that _refreshing._

“Ah, Mr. Burnsides!” Davenport crossed the sitting room to him and reached out to shake his hand. “You’re right on time.”

“I should have been here sooner,” he said, carding a hand through his hair. “Need to set up and all.”

“No, no, we’ve all afternoon.”

“Do we?” Taako asked. He hadn’t looked up from his book for an hour. He did now, snapping it shut and tossing it onto the sofa. “This won’t take as long as the last time, will it?”

Lup nudged him with her elbow. “Where’s your _excitement?_ ”

He shrugged and hefted himself out of his seat to follow Davenport and the painter out of the room.

Lucretia found herself wondering the same thing -- Taako was usually over the moon about these sorts of things. She suspected Kravitz’s sudden and unannounced vacation a month prior had something to do with his recently sour mood. His affections were well known, at least in their own home.

Lup sighed, watching her brother’s retreating back before she stood and extended a hand to Lucretia. “You’re the only one who understands me today, Lu. Isn’t that a travesty?”

“Quite,” Lucretia said, and let Lup pull her along after the rest of them.

Once Lucretia found herself settled in her usual spot for portraits, she was able to get a better look at their painter.

He was tall, rather large, with thick dark hair and a nose that looked to have been broken in two different places, though he wore those scars quite naturally. He was _handsome_ , if she’d allow herself to think it, and he seemed very happy. Most people she encountered on a day to day basis were miserable while pretending to be content. Mr. Burnsides seemed to be neither. He hummed as he set up his tools, offering them small directions and readjusting the curtains for better light.

“So you make chairs,” Taako said.

“Among other things.” He smiled. “Did you need one? I’ve got a bit of a backlog right now. Summer seems to be the time to redecorate.”

“Odd,” Lup said.

“Right? You’d think it’d be spring, or at least during a new year, but.” He shrugged before settling onto his stool in front of his easel. “Alright,” he said. “Choose your pose and stick with it for just a bit.”

Lucretia sat as she always did, though he prevented her from watching him work. His hands were...rather fascinating. Large and rough looking, though wrapped around a brush they did seem softer, more gentle. These were ridiculous thoughts, of course, but they occupied her mind for the time being.

“I forgot my books,” she said.

Her father patted her hand. “You’ll survive.”

She was halfway through a fantasy involving Mr. Burnsides’s hands and an imaginary painting lesson when he announced they’d take a break.

Davenport went around to the easel excitedly and grinned. “It looks _wonderful._ ”

“Oh, you think? I’m glad you like it, I haven’t done too many--”

“Is this your first?” Lucretia asked.

He shook his head. “Fourth. But I’ve been practicing.”

“You’re a natural,” Davenport said. “Let’s have a drink on the terrace, you can tell us a bit more about your work.”

 

* * *

 

Lucretia and her family sat for Mr. Burnsides for an entire week before he announced he was finished. It was by far their shortest sitting in a long time, and Lucretia found herself rather sad to see him go. He was a bit of a grounding presence in their home, which she found so often overrun by her father’s less than genuine acquaintances and friends. They never met _real_ people anymore, people with talent and vision.

She wrote in her journal -- _I believe Mr. Burnsides is the most solid man who has walked through our house, besides my father and brother. He carries himself with an ease I’ve never seen before. Perhaps it is the ease of a man who knows what he is good at. I don’t think I could even fake a walk like that. I’ve no idea what I’m good at, other than scribbling random thoughts into this book and managing father’s expenses at the pier. If I had a talent like Taako for cooking, or if I had love like Lup has for Barry, then perhaps I’d know more about myself. Not to reduce my sister to her relationship, but their union gives her purpose, they’ll marry and start a school together, she swears it --_

With a sigh she snapped it shut, tossing her pen onto the desk with a groan. What _was_ her talent? She wasn’t a writer -- she’d already tried that once, and it’d been a complete failure. Her father had asked her politely not to pursue it after the first attempt, though Lup kept threatening to send off one of her manuscripts if she didn’t give it another go.

She pushed her chair back and went to fall dramatically onto her bed, hoping the effort would relax her. It was of no use. Lucretia eventually crawled under her covers, turned down her lamp, and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She did not expect to see Mr. Burnsides again, other than in a brief fantasy here and there. He was a large man and rather handsome -- Lucretia was allowed her distractions every so often.

But, she came around the corner one afternoon, headed to her room with her nose in a book, and nearly tripped over his ankles, stumbling and catching herself on the wall.

“Whoa!” He stood and reached out to take her hand. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. He let her go. “Serves me right for having my nose in a book.” She looked at the tools he’d laid out. “You’re taking our bannister apart, Mr. Burnsides.”

He laughed. “Your father hired me to fix it.”

“So you’re a painter, a furniture maker, _and_ a handyman,” she said, counting off. “Color me impressed.”

He shrugged. “Not really big on labels. I’m...just Magnus,” he said.

“ _Magnus._ ”

“That’s my name.”

Lucretia blinked. “Oh! Oh, right. Sorry, I--”

“No, it’s okay. Professionalism is, uh, good. I understand.” He knelt back down at the foot of the stairs. “I’ll try to keep these things out of your way for the day.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep my eyes open.”

Magnus smiled. “Good policy,” he said, before getting back to work.

He became a silent fixture in their home for almost another week. He was always repairing something, or looking at blueprints with Davenport. He went outside and helped the men fixing the garden wall, and then had tips for the gardener about fall-variety flowers to plant later in the season. Every so often he’d wind up in the same room as Lucretia, and they’d talk for a while, usually about what she was reading.

“What’s the story today?”

“It’s a mystery novel,” she said. “Very gruesome. Triple murder.”

Magnus laughed. “I’m amazed you’re allowed to read that.”

“My father always let us read what we wanted. He’s never believed in censorship.”

“That’s good.” Magnus tested the table leg he was repairing. “I don’t read much, never been particularly good at it, but I always thought it was strange that people could learn to read and then...stop people from reading everything.”

“That’s an interesting way to see it.”

Magnus shrugged. “Dunno about that. Just seems like some folks take a good thing for granted.”

“Yes,” she said. “It seems some do.”

 

* * *

 

One evening at dinner, Lucretia tried to say, rather casually, “I think the some of the floorboards are loose in the tea room. Maybe Magnus could come by and look at those.”

Davenport raised a brow. “ _Magnus_.”

Lucretia sighed. “Mr. _Burnsides._ ”

“Oh, I know what his name is. I just wasn’t aware you were friends.”

“He was fixing the library this week.”

“Which one?” Taako muttered. “You only have _five._ ”

“I have _one_ ,” she said. “I share the others.”

Davenport nodded. “If you say it’s loose I’m sure it is. He’s coming by tomorrow to pick up payment for the dining room project he just finished. I’ll have him look then.”

Later that evening, Lup slipped into her room and crawled into bed with her, chatting idly about the walk she’d gone on with Barry earlier in the day, how he was traveling at the end of the summer for a week and wanted her to go with him.

“Would the captain approve?”

“I don’t see why not. Anything to bother the entire town, I suppose.”

Lup snorted with laughter. They were sitting up, and she was letting Lucretia braid her hair. It went on for a while that way, until Lup said quietly, “You’re infatuated with that Burnsides boy.”

Lucretia sighed. “He’s not a _boy_.”

“Oh no, he’s a _man_ ,” Lup said, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles. “I suppose he is _devastatingly_ handsome,” she muttered. “Not really your type though.”

“No, not really.”

“But did you see those _hands_.”

“First thing I noticed.”

Lup made a noise. “ _Ugh_ , I can’t with these artist types sometimes. They’re just too much for me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I bet he’d take you _roughly_ in the garden shed if you asked.”

“ _Lup!_ ”

“Oh, come on, like you haven’t thought about it.”

Lucretia rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I’ve thought about. He’s hardly interested in some scrawny woman who can’t look up from a book for longer than two minutes.”

“You’ve been talking all _week_ , he must have some opinion of you.”

“Yes,” Lucretia said, tying off the end of the braid. “That I’m a complete _idiot_ , I’m sure.”

Lup turned to face her. “Lucretia. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re beautiful and clever.”

“And?”

“And...that’s it. You know I love you,” she said, and kissed her forehead. “Now go to sleep and imagine what you’d say to Mr. Burnsides if you were _completely_ uninhibited.”

“You’re terrible,” Lucretia muttered, but she followed Lup’s direction anyway. It was her most colorful fantasy yet.

 

* * *

 

Taako’s mood vastly improved as they drew closer to the day of Kravtiz’s party. Once again, Lup chose something bordering on scandalous for them both to wear. It took Taako five hours to get ready, a new record.

“Have fun,” their father said, “and try to be home at a _somewhat_ decent hour.” He sighed. “We’ll be the talk of the town for again if you’re not careful.”

“Dav.” Lup bent down to kissed the top of his head. “We’re _always_ the talk of the town.”

Lucretia looked through the back window as their carriage headed down the path, waving to their father. “Do you think he sometimes wishes he’d adopted well behaved children?”

“Well we were all well behaved once.”

Taako snapped his compact shut. “I’ve never, in my entire life, been well behaved.”

Lup cupped his cheek. “I know, darling.”

When they arrived at Kravitz’s estate, the man himself was waiting for them. From the way his face lit up as Taako stepped out of the carriage, Lucretia figured he’d been looking forward to this just as much as the rest of them.

“You look spectacular, darling,” Kravitz said coolly, and kissed Taako’s cheeks.

Taako looked him up and down. “You could do better. That jacket is atrocious.”

“It was a _gift_ from _you_.”

“Ah, well, that explains it then.”

Kravitz sighed, then looked past Taako and smiled. “But your sisters look marvelous, as always. Ladies, welcome, I’m so glad you could make it. Let’s go inside and get a few drinks in everyone, shall we?”

They followed him into the house for the promised drinks and toasted to each other. Lucretia took a tentative sip of her wine, glancing around the room to see who she recognized -- it was always fun to see who turned up for one of Kravitz’s parties.

When Magnus walked through the door, she nearly choked.

“Ah, there he is!” Kravitz, crossed the room toward him and pulled Magnus to their little gathering. “I wondered if you’d show, my friend.”

“Well, not every day I get to break out the fancy suit.”

“You look wonderful. Everyone, this is _Magnus_ .” Kravitz gestured around the room. “He _designed_ this house.”

“He also painted our family’s portrait,” Taako said. “Tell me, Mr. Burnsides, are there are talents you _don’t_ possess.”

Magnus’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, dancing.”

“Oh, we’ll have you on the floor in no time,” Kravitz said. “Bit of wine, bit of music--”

“Lucretia is a _wonderful_ dancer,” Lup said. “I’m sure she’d be willing to teach you a few steps.”

Lucretia nearly choked a second time as Magnus turned his gaze on her.

“I, um--”

“Perfect! Everyone has a partner.” Kravitz pointed. “Lup, I think I just saw your beloved--” Lup was already leaving, pulling up her skirts and rushing toward Barry. “See? A perfect night. Taako, darling, would you join me for a tour? I’ve spruced up a few of the rooms on the lower floor following your recommendations, and I thought you might like to see.” Kravitz offered him his arm and Taako accepted.

Magnus chuckled as they left. “That’s...probably the last time we’ll see them tonight.” He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing server.

“Probably,” Lucretia agreed. She hid her face behind her own glass, draining it.

Magnus cleared his throat. “Can I get you another one?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm already. “I think that would be lovely.”

He laughed. “Another it is, then,” before taking one from a passing trey and pressing it into her hand.

 

* * *

 

They chose not to have an impromptu dance lesson. Lucretia was working on her fourth glass of wine, and Magnus preferred to observe and wander, he said, so they strolled through the bottom floor of the house before stepping out into the garden. It was just as well -- the wine had made her warm, and even a walk in the summer air would be a relief.

When they stepped outside she took a calming breath and said, “So you designed this place.”

“And helped build it.”

“Amazing,” Lucretia said. “You really are a man of many talents.”

“Ah, well. I just, uh. I like to do things with my hands.”

Lucretia felt her neck grow hotter.

Magnus said, “You, uh, you work for your father then?”

“In a way. Just some bookkeeping and things like that. It’s not something I want to do forever. Lup and I went to a women’s college up north for a few years. We both studied teaching. When she and Barry are finally married, they’re going to open up a school here.”

“That’s really something.”

“Isn’t it? She wants me to help her run it, or at least teach.” Lucretia felt herself wobble a bit, so she found the nearest bench and settled onto it. “Sorry,” she said. “Light headed.”

“Strong stuff.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She took another sip. “I really don’t know what I want to do. I’ve never been very good at making up my mind about those sorts of things. I was six when I was adopted. I suppose if I’d been left behind, some sort of career would have chosen me.”

“You’re all adopted then.” She nodded. “The captain’s a pretty wonderful guy, seems like.”

“Davenport is...more generous than he has any right to be,” she said. “He saved us. He gave us family.”

Magnus sat down next to her. “You’re very lucky.”

“I know.” She glanced at him and smiled. “What about your family?”

He sighed. “Well. Not all of us are lucky enough to find a generous captain,” he said. “I aged out of the foster system a few towns over. Found myself here a few years ago. Kravitz’s house was my first job, honestly, really helped me out. But, uh. No family. None that I know of.”

“...Oh.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said, and drained his wine glass. “Besides, it’s not a bother to me. I’ve been happy, these past few years. I have my work, I have my business. The other things I want...they’ll come in time.”

Lucretia looked out on the gardens. “What other things?” _Gods_ , she’d had too much wine.

Magnus shrugged. “Well, you know. Marriage,” he said. “Maybe children. I didn’t know my parents, but I figured, hey. I’ll have a few kids, and they’ll know _their_ parents. Break the cycle.” He paused. “You’ve...never thought of it that way?”

Lucretia shook her head. “No. Truthfully...truthfully I’ve never considered myself the marrying kind. Not because I can’t imagine it, I just...can’t imagine someone who’d like to marry me.”

“Hey.” Magnus angled himself toward her. “Don’t be like that. You’re…you’re _incredibly_ smart. You’re educated and clever--”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Mr. Burnsides, but education fills a woman’s head with nonsense and wild dreams.”

“I’ve heard,” he said, and reached out to take her hand. “But I disagree.”

Lucretia looked down as he touched her. She thought to draw away, it would be inappropriate to let him hold her hand longer than a few seconds, but --

It was as warm as she imagined it would be, rough in places worn down with time and repeated motions. She swallowed thickly and looked up at him. He was... _gazing_ at her. It was so unlike the way anyone had looked at her in so long. Not since...not since college, and Maureen, and _oh_ that night in the garden, it was so much like this, with wine and music and _dancing_ , and there’d been a kiss and a sigh and _then_ \--

“Your...your compliments are appreciated,” she said, and drew her hands away, missing his warmth.

“Lucretia…”

“I should get back inside,” she said quickly, standing too fast. The sudden movement made her sway, and she tumbled. Magnus stood quickly, reaching out to catch her. She was suddenly right between his knees, her chest flush with his, able to feel his breath on her cheek. If she turned her head just _so_ , she could brush her lips against his, and he could _kiss_ her like she’d imagined, perhaps soft at first, with a bit more fervor as it went on.

They were lucky to be alone, but she realized now that this was precisely what her father had meant when he’d asked them to be careful. He’d only have to deal with it tomorrow if she were caught in a position like this.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what that was.”

“Wine,” he offered, voice a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I, um.” He straightened, suddenly towering over her. Lucretia’s body flared with heat. She turned away. “I’ll walk you inside,” he said. “And then maybe I’ll go.”

“Only if you’d like.”

“It’s late. I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Please don’t leave on my account--”

“ _No_ ,” he said, a bit too loud. “I mean...no. It’s not because of you.” He offered her his arm and she took it, letting him lead her back into the house. At the door he let her go. She felt strong enough now to stand on her own, and took a step back.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Mr. Burnsides.”

“Oh, it was...it was nothing.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and smiled at her. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” he added, and headed outside.

Lucretia stood in one place until he disappeared around the corner before going to find more wine and her sister.

 

* * *

 

“That sounds _magical_ ,” Lup said later that night. She was brushing Lucretia’s hair and leaned forward to wrap her arms around her. “What a gentleman.”

“I thought he was going to kiss me,” Lucretia said quietly. “Or I was going to kiss him.”

“ _Suspenseful._ ”

Lucretia shook her head. “I can’t allow that to happen again. If there’s talk tomorrow--”

“I don’t think anyone saw you…”

“Someone did, probably.” She took the brush when Lup was done and set it on her vanity. “Someone always does.”

Lup told her not to worry, but for the next few days, Lucretia dreaded going down to the pier to work, or the first few moments when her father would come home. He hardly seemed distressed or put out by anything, so after a week, she relaxed.

Another week later, she came into the house after running a few errands in town to find Magnus on a ladder, replacing parts in their chandelier.

“Are you an decorator now, Mr. Burnsides?”

He peered down at her and smiled. “Something like that,” he said. She watched him work until he replaced the last part and stepped down the ladder. “Your father said these pieces had been missing for years. I’ve got a friend who sells them in Neverwinter, so I had him send some over.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” She shifted her purchases to the other arm. “You look well.”

“So do you.” He wiped his hands and put his tools back in his box. “I, um. I wanted to apologize,” he said, straightening up. “The other night at the party, I was entirely out of line. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“Oh.” Lucretia felt her cheeks warm. “No, you don’t have to be sorry. It was a silly thing for me to do, I’d had too much wine--”

“I understand your reputation is important. More important than mine--”

“That’s absurd--”

“Lucretia,” he said sharply. “Please. I’m...I’m not stupid, even if I look it and _sound_ it. You’re the educated daughter of a wealthy merchant. I shouldn’t have to _explain_ this to you. If someone had seen us at the party, you’d be...they’d say--”

“That I was a whore,” she said coolly.

“I didn’t say that.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. You didn’t have to. Half the women in this town think there’s something irredeemable about me. I’m beyond saving. I told you, I don’t think there’s a man in Faerun who’d stoop so low as to marry me.”

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Oh, don’t be so noble. I _breed_ scandal, Magnus. My brother’s courtship is appropriate, Barry’s wooing of my sister is acceptable. I went to college and made a _fool_ of myself and came back and tried to be a _writer_ , shamed my father and embarrassed myself--”

“You think I care about those things?”

“I’m not asking whether you do. I’m _telling_ you why I am impossible--”

“Then for the _hundredth time_ ,” he said, “I _beg to differ._ ”

Lucretia felt her breath catch in her throat. They stared at one another, until Magnus said quietly, “Forgive me. For...raising my voice.”

“I’ll think nothing of it,” she said calmly, and walked past him.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t seem him for a few weeks. Summer was cresting and the weather was atrocious. Lup and Barry were engaged in July. She caught his eye, briefly, at the impromptu party they threw, but he didn’t go to her, and she didn’t speak with him. All of it was incredibly oppressive. The heat made her uncomfortable, and her last conversation with Magnus had made her miserable just thinking about her own life. There was so much she could have done, so much she could have _been_ \-- and here she was, suffering through petticoats and skirts, making her way down to the pier three times a week, if only to distract herself.

But, even still -- she couldn’t get Magnus out of her mind.

It wasn’t until early August, when one of the shelves in her library suddenly bowed under the weight of several books that she asked her father to call for him.

“A good idea,” he said that evening. “I think he’s bringing by the portrait. He’s finished the framing, he told me.”

“I’d like to see that,” Taako said. He was in a _substantially_ better mood these days, and it was the most poorly kept secret around that he and Kravitz were courting one another. Lucretia had no idea how they managed it. She’d seen them touch a grand total of _twice_ , though she had it on good authority that they’d certainly done more than that the night of the party, and managed to keep the entire thing a secret. She’d have to ask them for tips.

Not that she’d need them. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be alone with Magnus Burnsides ever again.

 

* * *

 

Of course, she was alone with him that afternoon. It was _her_ library afterall, and her favorite spot in the house. He knocked politely at the door and help up his box tools.

“Truce?” he asked carefully, and Lucretia nodded. “Alright. Let’s take a look.”

“It just came down the other day,” she said, showing him the damage.

“Support doesn’t look so good.” He tested the fittings and nodded. “I can fix that. Need an hour or so.” He glanced at her. “You don’t have to leave. Be nice to talk.”

“It...would,” she said, and sat in the chair closest to the shelf and read aloud from her book for a while. It was hardly her best idea. She’d only been trying unsuccessfully for a while now to stop thinking of him. But the idea of watching -- oh those _hands_. She could linger for a while just to get a glimpse of them, couldn’t she?

“Have you painted anymore portraits this summer?” she asked, trying to justify her staying.

“No,” he said. “But maybe when the holidays come around. I’ve been thinking about doing some one-on-one sessions, just to make some more coin.” He cleared his throat. “I’d, um. I’d love to paint you, someday.” He glanced at her. “If that’s alright.”

Lucretia stared at her book, measured her breathing. “Yes,” she said. “I think that would be nice.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I’d like to sit for you,” she said, looking up.

Magnus nodded. “Okay. Okay, great.” He smiled and went back to his work.

The rest of their time together was passed in companionable silence, a comfort that Lucretia couldn’t allow herself to dwell on. How lovely would it be to have this always? Someone who could work as she read, who understood when she needed quiet. Someone who knew what she liked, what she _loved_. She had never seen the pleasure in marrying, but she imagined how happy Lup and Barry would be in the years to come, and she thought that it might be wonderful to possess that.

“Done,” he said, and she stood to inspect his work.

“It’s beautiful.” Lucretia ran her hands over the wood. “You removed the scratches.”

“Just took some polishing and a bit of dye.”

She smiled, glancing up at him. “You have so much talent, Magnus. I’m very impressed.”

He ducked his head. “Well, I’m just glad to help.”

They stood like that for a moment, before Lucretia felt herself draw closer, her gaze leveled at the ground, as she said quietly, “I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For the party.” She looked up now. “I...let myself get carried away. I put you in a compromising position--”

“Please,” he said. “Stop.”

“And then when you apologized I was rude and cruel--”

“No. That’s not right.”

“Can’t we just say we were both foolish that night and leave it at that.”

“If you want to. But I can’t.”

“Why?”

Magnus took a breath. “Because...because the only fool that night was me. I was a fool because you were right there, in my arms, and I...I didn’t--” He suddenly reached out and cupped her face in his hands.

Lucretia _trembled_.

“I didn’t kiss you. And I should have.”

Her lips parted, her breathing grew labored and she said as steady as should could, “It wouldn’t have been _proper_.”

“Then to hell with proper,” he said -- and he kissed her.

She felt the world fall out from under her. One hand slid from her face to her side, pulling her flush with his chest as Lucretia wound her arms around his neck to kiss him back. She threaded her fingers through his hair, gripped it tight before she felt both his hands fall to her thighs and _lift_ her, turning her toward the shelf and pressing her hard against it.

“ _Magnus_ \--”

He didn’t answer. Instead he trailed his mouth over her chin and cheeks, down the burning column of neck before laving his tongue over the hollow of her throat. The door to the library was open, but Lucretia couldn’t really care.

_To hell with proper._

Oh, the improper things she’d _imagined._ He pushed harder and the shelf dug into her back, but it was welcome, she wanted this, she was _starved_ for this. He reached down and lifted her skirts to press his hands to her thighs before lifting her with ease. Lucretia brought her hands up to his face, focusing his gaze on her as he ground against her, his erection suddenly insistent against her thigh.

She wanted him to take her, to tear her skirts and fuck her with _abandon_ , to let her howl in his ear and writhe against him. Lucretia _wanted_ and it had been such a long time since she’d felt that way that she forgot how intoxicating it could be. Magnus dropped his mouth to her neck again and nipped the skin. Lucretia moaned, this was _agony_ , this was --

A bird slammed against the window, startling them both. Magnus promptly dropped her and took a step back, looking at the glass and then back to her with abject _horror._

“I--”

“Do _not_ apologize,” she said, catching her breath. “Just...just _don’t._ ” She straightened her skirts and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m...I’ll leave you to clean up. My father is expecting you later with the painting.”

Magnus nodded. “Um, right. Right.” He turned away from her now, and Lucretia took the chance to leave quickly, rushing up the stairs to her room and closing the door behind her.

She took a few steadying breaths, trying to slow her heart, but all she could think about were his _hands_ , how they lifted her and held her, how _strong_ he was and how she longed for his lips on her neck again. She wanted to bruise under him, to be pressed upon and pulled apart until she could no longer stand herself.

Lucretia groaned in frustration, covering her face with her hands and trying to forget how _good_ it felt to have his teeth against her skin, to feel his cock pushing against his trousers insistently against her. He _wanted her_ , how impossible had that felt, just hours ago?

And now it was _real._

Lucretia dropped her hands and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above her vanity.

She looked _debauched._

Quickly she sat and repinned her hair. A quick touch-up here and there, and she looked like herself again, not the desperate creature that had shown itself in the library not ten minutes ago, hungry and _wanton_ \--

“ _Lucretia?_ ” Her maid knocked at the door. “ _Your father’s asking for you. Mr. Burnsides has brought the painting._ ”

“Just a minute!” she called. She checked her reflection one last time before heading downstairs.

 

* * *

 

Lucretia had to give herself credit. Standing in the same room with a man who’d just had his hands on her bare thighs was harder than it sounded, but Magnus didn’t look her way the entire time, which was a blessing, in the end.

He’d done a beautiful job with the painting, and the frame he carved for it was incredible. Davenport couldn’t stop fawning over it.

“Incredibly craftsmanship,” he said, and invited Magnus to stay for dinner. It proved to be a form of torture that Lucretia had never quite experienced before. Lup, ignorant of what had happened in the library, managed to sit Magnus right next to Lucretia, who spent the entire evening attempting to avoid any contact with him whatsoever.

When they reached for a bottle of wine at the same time, Magnus looked right at her and said, calmly, “Can I fill you up?”

“...Yes.”

Inside, she _burned._

It was a relief when he finally left. After, it took far too long to convince Lup that, really, honestly, everything was fine, she was only tired, a bit too much wine with dinner and she just needed to head straight to bed.

Lup didn’t believe a word of it and said coolly, “You’ll tell me what happened in the morning,” before heading down the hall to her own room.

Lucretia nodded and shut the door after her, waiting a few seconds before turning the lock. She crawled into bed, lowering the lamp light and staring up at the ceiling.

Alone, in the quiet dark of her room, Lucretia let the memories of that afternoon flood her mind. Her nerves were alight again, but now she had the time to manufacture the things that might have happened next. Would he have let her touch his cock? His hands were so large, she could only imagine what it would have felt like, hot in her hand, thick if he’d let her put him in her mouth. What would he have tasted like? How would he have _felt_ , sliding against her thigh, her skin slick with her own need.

Would he have tasted her? _Oh_ , she could imagine his tongue against her cunt, heat against heat, thick as he laved it over her clit and drove her wild.

Carefully, Lucretia drew up the hem of her dressing gown, letting her hand trail over her hip and toward her cunt. She’d been wet all afternoon and evening, a terrible consequence of her overactive imagination and Magnus’s entire _being._ Her other hand reached up to trace a lazy circle around her left nipple letting it grow firm and rub against the soft fabric of her gown.

He’d been planning to do _something_ with her, if she only knew _what._ Thankfully, she’d been reading erotica since the tender age of nine -- she’d told Magnus, the captain didn’t believe in censorship and that was true -- she’d formed a very good idea of what pleasure was supposed to feel like and it came with neither shame nor doubt as far as Lucretia was concerned.

She wanted _Magnus_ to make her come, but so long as she was alone, and he was gone -- she’d do the job herself.

She slipped two fingers between her folds, stroking them over her entrance a few times before sliding her middle finger inside. Anticipation forced her to clench around her own finger, and while it wasn’t nearly as big as she imagined Magnus to be, she could think about what he would feel like, buried to the hilt inside her as she clenched around him and begged him to move.

Lucretia drew her finger out and brought it up to draw around the edge of her clit. It responded, growing firmer against her touch and increasingly sensitive. Magnus would probably make her come first, he seemed the type. She wondered how long she could keep his mouth between her legs, what her own would look like, her bare feet perched on his broad shoulders, exposing herself to him.

Would he ask her to beg? She could, if he wanted it. His hair was dark and thick and Lucretia had indulged in having it between her fingers that afternoon. She’d want to reach out and _pull_ , force him to stay on her, force him to slide his tongue against her, maybe even inside her.

She wondered if he’d let her ride his mouth, roll against him as his broad hands gripped her hips, pressed so hard her skin could _bruise._ Oh, she wanted that. She wanted to touch those places later and remember how he’d felt under her, how he’d let her chase that feeling until she came against his lips and tongue.

Lucretia stopped teasing herself. Her free hand gripped the pillow as she stroked her clit with both fingers now, the pressure growing more insistent.

Would he come on her? Would he fuck her senseless before pulling out his cock to finish on her chest and neck? _God_ , she’d never thought of herself that way, but something about the image of her on her knees, his cock in his hand as he came on her, in her mouth -- it sent a _thrill_ through her body that struck her core and Lucretia clenched her thighs together, her breath coming in more desperate, rapid gasps.

She arched off the bed for just a moment, fingers clenching the pillow under her head as she felt her orgasm welling up inside her, and she wanted to cry out, to say his name, to have him right there with her, his thick fingers pressing into her cunt as she finally came, her mouth falling open with one last, desperate gasp.

Her left hand still gripped the pillow, but her other she pulled away, wiping slick on the inside of her thigh and trying to calm herself. She so rarely had fantasies that struck her this way, but everything about Magnus made her _wild_ with desire. Lucretia bit back a laugh -- she felt like one of the women in her books. Just for a moment, though. Those women lived without boundaries or fear. They asked for precisely what they wanted, and _knew_ what they wanted in the moment.

 _Like Maureen_ , she thought.

But Lucretia lived constantly within the lines she’d drawn for herself, terrified she’d disappoint. The things she wanted were a mystery even to herself.

When she’d come back from college, only Lup knew her secret -- Maureen had been kind and beautiful, but she was going to be a doctor someday, the rest of the world be damned.

“Maybe I’ll write a novel about you,” Lucretia had said.

Maureen had laughed. “Write a novel about _you_ first, love.”

When she’d tried, there’d been a minor scandal. It was the only time her father asked her not to cause trouble. The woman at the publishing house had quickly spread the word that Captain Davenport’s daughter -- “ _Adopted_ daughter,” they’d muttered under their breaths -- was writing a novel. A merchant’s _daughter_ didn’t write novels. It was already scandalous that they’d both gone to college, where everyone _knew_ these sorts of ideas got planted into young girls’ heads. At least Lup had done the proper thing and gotten herself engaged.

What was Lucretia’s absolution?

She made herself come one last time, let herself whisper into the dark, “ _Magnus_ ,” before pulling up her blankets and going to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The rest of summer faded away, and Lucretia only saw Magnus twice after that. He said hello to her one afternoon as he passed her on the street, and Lup was kind enough not to tease her about it.

Lucretia had told her what happened in the library, and Lup, being the self-appointed sensible one these days, said she really only had two options.

“You either pretend it never happened and live the rest of your life miserable and alone, or you go to father to tell him you’re in love with Magnus Burnsides and he can see if there’s anything to be done about it.”

“I don’t think the captain would approve,” Lucretia said idly, sifting through her earrings.

Lup sprawled out on Lucretia’s bed and sighed. “I can’t believe you’re in love with that man.”

“I’m not. I never said it.”

“Oh, _Lu._ ” Lup rolled over and looked at her. “You never had to.”

Lucretia shook her head. There was no time to parse her feelings for Magnus. Davenport was leaving for trip up to the northernmost coast and would be gone until Candlenights. Lucretia had her work cut out for her, and besides all that she was helping Lup to plan the wedding. Finances had to be managed on both fronts.

The evening before her father was set to leave, they threw him a going away party. Magnus came to that as well, but he kept a respectful distance until she approached him, offering him a glass of champagne for the upcoming toast.

“It’s good to see you,” he said.

“And you as well, Mr. Burnsides.”

He smiled. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you. You look just fine yourself.”

Magnus shrugged. “Any excuse to break out my one nice outfit.”

“I could have my father’s tailor make you something,” she said without thinking. “He’s made all my father’s dinner clothes.”

Magnus flushed. “No,” he said. “That’s...that’s alright.” He looked at her. “It... _is_ really good to see you, Lucretia.” He reached out and took her hand. “I mean that.”

“...Magnus--”

“ _Alright everyone listen up!_ ” Taako yelled over the din. Lucretia pulled her hand away and maneuvered through the crowd to stand with her family. Taako made a brilliant toast, as per usual, and the music started back up again as people headed into the ballroom to dance.

Lucretia felt a gentle hand pull on her own and she looked down to see her father standing there, cheeks rosy, eyes full. “My dear, may I borrow you.”

“Of course.” She followed him down the hall and into his study. It was one of the most beautiful rooms in the house, and Lucretia had spent days there learning how the books worked for the business, the right language to use and how to draft searing, elegant letters to men who’d tried to cheat them. Her father was as shrewd as he was jovial, and Lucretia had grown up wanting to be just like him -- though she feared now that she had failed.

Davenport went around the desk and took a key from his pocket. “I have something for you,” he said.

“For me?” He nodded. Lucretia sat in the worn leather chair in front of the desk.

“When I asked you not to write your book, I never...I never intended it to _hurt_ you, though I see now that it did. It wasn’t because I was ashamed, though. And I realize now that you…must have seen it this way.”

“I didn’t--”

“Don’t lie on my account, Lucretia. You’re a clever girl, but you wear your heart on your sleeve sometimes, and I know it must have felt like a _betrayal_ when I did it. But it was never about me. It was about...about how I wanted others to perceive you. Sending you and Lup to college wasn’t  a mistake, but it made people see you differently, and when the news about your book came, I couldn’t stand to hear your name said the way they said it. It...well, it broke my heart. So...here.” He held out a beautiful leather-bound notebook.

Lucretia took it. “What’s--”

“I want you to write your novel,” he said. “About anything you’d like. And we’ll send it somewhere a bit further, maybe to Neverwinter. Things are a bit more...modern there. The rest of the world will catch up, my dear.” He came around the desk and took her hand. “It isn’t fair to hold you back. You’re _ready_ to show this world how talented you are. And I can’t _wait_ to read it.”

Lucretia embraced him. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you _so much._ ”

“Of course my dear.” He helped her stand as she kept his hand clasped in her own. “There’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Burnsides is interested in painting the family, on an individual basis. He’s asked if it would be appropriate for you to come to his studio while I’m away. Very polite young man, even asked if I’d rather he wait til I return, or perhaps come here.”

Lucretia swallowed, clutching the book tighter to her chest.

“Anyway, there’s a letter inside with my express, written permission, should anyone give you a hard time. You know I never believed in that chaperone nonsense. You can look after yourself just fine. Besides,” he added. “I think Mr. Burnsides is...rather fond of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Something to discuss when I return, perhaps.” He paused before they walked back into the party. “Lucretia...is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, but sometimes you are a _mystery_ to me.”

She smiled. “I could try to be a bit more open--”

“Oh, no. Let yourself be a surprise sometimes, I don’t mind. I just...if there’s something on your mind, or something you’re feeling…”

She sighed. “I suppose I am...rather fond of Mr. Burnsides as well.”

“Are you now,” he said, lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.

“Yes. But I won’t go to his studio if you’d prefer. I’ll have him come here, when you’re back, if it’s--”

Davenport shook his head. “No,” he said. “I trust you to take care of yourself, Lucretia. It’s your heart. I won’t be the one who breaks it ever again.”

 

* * *

 

She sent word to Magnus that she’d be free to come by his studio later that week, and he sent back that he’d expect her Saturday morning.

When Lup found out, she was _giddy._

“I can’t believe you’re going after him.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Lucretia said.

“Is that why you’re wearing something you can easily slip out of?”

Lucretia turned to her. “It’s _my_ portrait, and I’ll wear what I want. You know I hate being laced up like a doll.”

“You do, it’s true. But this _will_ make it much easier for him to ravage you.”

“He’ll do nothing of the kind.”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Lup said. “I’m sure he’ll show as much restraint as he did that day in the library. Maybe this time you can make enough noise so as to scare the birds _away_ from the windows. No more interruptions.”

Lucretia sighed. “I regret telling you anything. Ever.”

“Oh, Lu, let me have my fun. You’re going to a rugged _artist’s_ house to sit for a painting. He’s _fond_ of you, you admitted to our father you’re fond of him! Just give yourself over to the passion!” She fell back dramatically onto Lucretia’s bed. “Will you at least tell him how you feel?”

“Maybe.”

Lup sighed. “Alright. Well enjoy yourself this afternoon. Barry and I are going to look at another piece of land for the school. I can’t wait until you stop pretending you don’t want to run it for me and agree to be Headmistress Lucretia.”

“We’ll see,” Lucretia said, and bent down to kiss her sister’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lup said, before standing to walk her down to her carriage.

 

* * *

 

Magnus’s studio was on the edge of town, out of the way of prying eyes, which Lucretia appreciated. She told her driver to head home, that she’d have Magnus bring her back, and she stayed outside, watching the horse disappear down the road before she turned and knocked three times on the door. “ _It’s open!_ ” he called, and Lucretia turned the handle and went inside.

It was roomy inside, a little warm, to stave off the incoming autumn chill. Lucretia let her shawl slide from her shoulders as Magnus stepped into the room from the kitchen, grinning and wiping down the handles of a few of his brushes. “You made it.”

“I did.”

“Great.” He gestured for her to follow him through the house, leading her to a room in the back. It was a little library, with a sturdy writing desk in the corner and a brown, worn leather chair. “I thought you’d like this room the best.”

“I love it,” she said, stepping in further and putting a hand on one of the shelves. “Did you make these?”

“I did.”

“They’re _beautiful._ ”

“I don’t read much, but I always...I wanted something like this, maybe to encourage me, I don’t know.”

“When Barry and Lup have their school they’re going to have classes for anyone in town who wants help. Reading, numbers.” She shrugged. “Something to think about.”

Magnus nodded. “Maybe you’d be my teacher.”

Lucretia turned to him and smiled. “Maybe,” she said. She looked around the room. “Where do you want me?”

He fumbled a jar of paint he was holding, his neck flushing. Lucretia raised a brow. “Uh, here.” He went and pulled out the chair. “I thought...I thought I could paint you while you were writing, if that’s okay. If you’d rather read--”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’d like to write.” She sat in the chair and ran her hands over the desk. He must have built this, too, she thought.

“Perfect.” He moved his things into the room and sat on his stool.

“How long will this take you think?”

“Handful of hours,” he said. “It’s just you by yourself, so I won’t need you to come back.”

Lucretia nodded. “I see.”

He glanced around the easel. “Pick up the pen, maybe? And look at me?” Lucretia nodded. “I could always invent reasons for you to come back, I suppose. If you’re bored.”

“Oh really? What sort of reasons?”

“I don’t know.” He began sketching. “Maybe...I’ll forget what color your dress is, or I’ll need to see what your hair looks like against the light. Things like that.”

Lucretia smiled. “You could always just ask.”

He laughed. “Right. I’m...sure that’d be very appropriate.”

“My father wrote me a note to be here,” she said.

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did. The captain doesn’t believe in chaperones.”

Magnus laughed again. “He’s pretty incredible.”

“He is.” Lucretia pressed her lips together. “...Magnus.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you...tell my father you were fond of me?”

He paused. “...I may have,” he said, looking around the easel. “But not for the intention of marriage. I...wanted to court you. Properly.”

“Really.”

He nodded. “What happened in the library was...it wasn’t--”

“I told you not to apologize.”

“No, I’m not, it just...it wasn’t befitting of a man who wants to...take his time with you.”

Lucretia raised a brow. “ _Do you_ want to take your time with me?”

Magnus shook his head. “Not especially. You make me a little crazy. I want...what I mean is--” He sighed. “I think about that day. All the time. I think about you and the way you _felt_ and the way you sounded, and I just...I go a little mad with it.”

Lucretia nodded. “I think about it, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” She looked right at him. “All the time.”

After that they sat in silence, Magnus working and looking up at her while Lucretia maintained her pose. After a little more than an hour, he said he needed a break. “You should stretch,” he added, and Lucretia stood. “I’ve got some coffee, you want me to make it?”

“Sure,” she said.

He smiled. “Be right back.”

Lucretia took her moment alone to sneak a look around the other side of the canvas. Usually she waited, but the way he’d been looking at her made her feel so _powerful_ from the other side, like whatever she did, he would paint. Whatever she decided, he would draw. She supposed being the subject made things that way, and as she came around Magnus’s side of the easel, she found she wasn’t entirely off point -- though she couldn’t have predicted what she saw.

The woman on the canvas was _beautiful_ \--  so much so that Lucretia didn’t even recognize her. She gasped when she saw it, reaching out to touch without thinking before she drew her hand back. She didn’t want to smudge his work, but she could barely believe it. Was this what she looked like? Was that the way she sat when she finally _knew herself?_

“Hey, turns out I’m out of coffee so I brought some wine. I know it’s early--” He stopped, holding the bottle in one hand and glasses in the other. “Um, you--”

Lucretia turned to him. “What is this?”

“...It’s you. You’re...sitting for a painting,” he said. “Remember?”

“No, this...this is--”

Magnus set the bottle and glasses down. “Lucretia. That’s _you._ ”

She looked back at the canvas, reaching out to touch the corner where he’d stretched and pinned it. “Is this how you see me?” she asked.

“No.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, turning her gaze on him. “It’s who you are.”

Lucretia knew what was coming next, so she saved him the trouble and met him in the middle, driving their mouths together. He put one hand on the small of her back, pulling her close to him as his other hand stroked her cheek.

“I _love you_ ,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “Lucretia, I--”

“I know. I know, Magnus.” She kissed him again, all over his cheeks and his nose, laughing and crying. He grinned, touching their foreheads together as he held her. “I love you, too.”

He laughed. “God, it feels so good to hear you say that.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes._ ”

She smiled, reaching up to brush the few tears that slid down his cheeks before she turned away from him. “Unlace me,” she said.

“....What?”

“Unlace my dress, Magnus.”

“Oh. Um, I don’t--”

“Magnus. Unlace my dress. And _take it off._ ”

He exhaled. “...Okay,” he said, and reached up to pull at the strings. The fabric hung loose around her, and it didn’t take much for him to reach up with both hands and push it off her shoulders, until it fell to the ground, pooling at her ankles. He didn’t have to be told what to do with her short corset, which came off just as well. She stepped out of her shoes before she turned and leaned down to pick up her dress, tossing it into the chair.

When she turned, Magnus was staring, his smile wide as he took it all in. “You’re beautiful,” he said, and went to her. “This…. _this_ is what I see.”

“I want you,” she said. “I’ve thought about _nothing else_ \--” She gasped as he bent low and kissed her neck. “Have you--”

“Every night,” he said. “God, I’ve imagined you so many times.”

Lucretia moaned as he drug his teeth over the curve of her neck. He grazed her nipple with back of one hand before wetting his thumb and tracing a smooth circle around it. The feel of the air in the house meeting her wet skin made her tremble, and it gave her an idea.

“Magnus?”

“Hmm?”

“I want…” She pulled back. “I want you to paint me.”

“...I am. That’s why we’re here.”

“No,” she said, and reached down into one of the jars of oil paint sitting next to the easel. She dipped her thumb into it, brought it up, and swiped it across his cheek. “I _want_ you to _paint me._ ”

He swallowed. “I see.”

“Will you?” she asked. He nodded. “Good.” She kissed him again.

He pulled back after a moment and said, “Go to my room. I’ll meet you there.”

“Alright.” She turned and headed down the hall. Lucretia could feel his gaze on her until she found his bedroom, looking back one last time before going inside.

She touched a few things -- a candle and the end table, the soft down blanket that covered the bed. Magnus came in the room and set a few jars on the bedside table before hooking his hands under the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Lucretia turned, spreading her hands over his chest before trailing them up and behind his neck to pull him down for another kiss. She felt his cock press insistently against her through his trousers, and she smiled against his lips. “Well hello there.”

Magnus flushed. “Sorry--”

“It’s sort of the point, Mr. Burnsides.”

“No, I know. Just--” He sighed and undid the belt around his slacks before pushing them to the ground. He nearly tripped kicking his boots off. Lucretia laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed before he came over to her, sliding his hands under her legs and angling her over and against the pillows. He moved onto the bed and spread her legs. Lucretia bent her knees, watching him reach for a jar of paint to cover his hands.

When his cool, wet palms touched her thighs, Lucretia sighed, relaxing against the pillows as he drew his hands up and over her skin before bringing them down to her knees. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, pressing his lips to her thigh.

“Can I taste you?” he asked.

“ _Yes_.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “You’re so wet, I can see it. You’ve thought of me like this, haven't you?” Lucretia nodded. “Hey. Say it.”

“ _Magnus_ \--”

“Lucretia.”

She moaned, trying to force him closer, but he wouldn’t budge. “Oh, _yes, yes_ ,” she gasped. “Yes I thought of your mouth on me.”

“On where.”

“On my _cunt_ , Magnus.” She looked right at him. “Please,” she said, “ _please_.”

“Alright,” he said, and leaned in to press the flat of his tongue along her cunt. Lucretia cried out, gasping when he pressed against her now swollen clit. His paint-slick hands ran along her thighs, but it was starting to dry, making her skin feel tight under his heavy palms.

“More,” she said, “ _more_.”

Magnus hummed against her, slowing his pace to press his tongue against her entrance, teasing as he pressed just inside her. He couldn’t use his hands, but Lucretia certainly could, and she brought two fingers down to stroke her clit as he fucked her with his tongue, humming against her. She tightened her thighs around him and she could full her orgasm cresting, feel herself losing control --

She planted one foot on his shoulder, like she’d imagined, and she came, back arching off the bed, thrusting her cunt against his mouth.

As she came down, Magnus pulled away, settled her legs on the bed before he leaned forward and wiped his mouth against her stomach before dragging his tongue up and between her breasts.

“Your turn,” he said, and reached for another jar of paint.

Lucretia smiled, trying to relax her breathing as he covered her palms with dark blue paint.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” he murmured, and she nodded. He carefully turned her with him so she could settled between his legs. “Is this okay for you?”

“I don’t do things I don’t want to do, Magnus.”

“Alright just -- _oh, fuck_.” He groaned, dropping his head back as Lucretia leaned down and licked him from base to tip. This part of it all didn’t come very naturally to her, but she was gentle as she ran blue-painted hands over his hips and grasped his thighs, bobbing her head and taking him as deep as she could. “Careful,” he murmured. “You can take it easy, you’ll get used to it.”

Lucretia slid off him and said, “You can promise that?”

“Yeah.” He reached out and carded a hand through her hair, leaving a few pale blue streaks. “I promise.”

She smiled, appreciating the implication while she took him into her mouth again. He wasn’t as big as she’d imagined, but he was thick enough, and he was warm and wet. She let the tip of his cock slide against the roof of her mouth before she took as much as she could and sucked. All the while she kept her gaze on him, and Magnus stroked her forehead, running his hands through her hair, pulling every so often when she seemed to hit a good spot.

“Fuck, fuck, okay.” He pushed her off. “I want to fuck you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her, trailing his mouth along her jaw. “Let me fuck you, please.”

“God, yes--”

“C’mere.” He rolled her over and moved her along the bed before he stood, pulling her closer to him. “I’ll go slow--”

“I _want you_.”

“And you’ll have me,” he said soothingly. “Believe me, you say the word and I will fuck you until you scream, but you need to be patient with me first,” he said. “I can make it last. I can make this good for you.”

Lucretia nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

“Alright.” He went to the basin by the bed and washed the paint from his hands before carefully stroking his cock. He settled between her legs, leaning in and pressing himself against her entrance, slowly pressing the tip in and then out.

“ _Magnus_ \--”

“Easy.” He leaned down and kissed her and, with a firm roll of his hips, slowly slid into her.

Lucretia cried out -- she was tight and the last time she’d been with anyone had been years ago, at school. Magnus slowed down even more, drawing out before thrusting back in, harder now. “Breathe,” he said. “Fuck, you’re so tight--” But he kept at it, keeping a slow and steady pace until Lucretia nodded.

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” She stroked his arm, leaving rich blue lines. “I want you to fuck me.”

Magnus nodded. The pace of his thrusts quickened, leaving her wanting more, and him able to give it to her. They jolted her on the bed, and he reached down and put both her legs over his shoulders to get control. Lucretia gripped the sheets with her hands, pulling at them and arching her back, gasping each time his struck her particularly hard. There was pain at first, the pain of his cock pressing into her, against her, was new. She relaxed, moving along with his thrusts, meeting him as their skin, slick with sweat and come, smacked lewdly in the otherwise quiet room.

Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it anymore, he pulled out.

“Magnus--”

“On your knees,” he said hoarsely, and helped her roll over. She planted her hands on the bed and felt him crawl behind her, pushing her legs closer together. Magnus reached down to push her into the mattress, knocking her down to her elbows as he filled her again. His other hand gripped her hip before he pulled it back and brought it down on her ass. Lucretia cried out, a breathless, “ _Yes_ ,” escaping her before she even realized that she _wanted_ it. He smacked her again before he brought both hands to her hips and began pounding her, using her hips to fuck his cock.

Lucretia scrabbled at the headboard for purchase, breathing heaving. One of his hands left her hip, and she felt it latch onto her hair and pull, surprising her. The other traveled to her mouth, sliding his fingers against the inside her cheek. She sucked them without thought, until he pulled them out and brought them down to press gently at her throat.

His thrusts were becoming quicker, more desperate, and Lucretia suddenly felt him very close to her ear as he panted, “Can I come on you?”

“ _Yes._ ”

He nodded and pulled out. Lucretia turned to face him and watched as he stroked his cock until he came. She felt it hit her chest as she tipped her head back and let it spot her neck, too. Magnus breathed heavy, still on his knees until he finished. He stared at her for a moment, looking at her chest, smeared with cum and paint. Lucretia felt herself laugh, and she reached up to hook her hand around his neck, bringing him down to kiss her, flush with the mess they’d made of her.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured.

Lucretia laughed again. “I can’t believe we _did_ that.”

“Mmm, I can. You’ve been doing that in my head for weeks now.”

“Have I?”

Magnus nodded. “Yeah.” He pulled back. “ _Ugh_ , we’re a mess.”

“The aftermath isn’t so nice, is it?”

“Well it’s _you_ ,” he said. “So it’s still pretty great from my perspective.” He kissed her forehead. “I can draw a bath if you want. We can’t send you home like this.”

“No.” God, Lucretia hadn’t even _thought_ of that. “I suppose we can’t.”

“It’s alright, you’ll clean up quick.” Magnus got off the bed with a groan. “Stay here, warm up and I’ll be back when it’s ready.”

Lucretia nodded, burrowing under the blankets and closing her eyes. She felt safe here, and each time she thought of a different way he’d touched her, she shivered. She was too sensitive to touch herself, so she closed her eyes and rested, until Magnus came and shook her awake.

“Hey. No sleeping here. That’s a scandal I don’t think even the captain could overlook.”

“True,” she murmured, yawning and stretching as he pulled the blankets back before he led her to the bath.

 

* * *

 

It took far longer than necessary for them to bathe. Magnus got distracted partway through, and Lucretia felt him stiffening against her back, and one thing led to another --

By the time he got her home, it was nearly past dinner, but neither Taako nor Lup were around. Lucretia went into the kitchen and made herself something to eat when the staff couldn’t be located, before going up to her room.

She allowed herself a moment to inspect her body completely before dressing for bed. There were marks, bruises on her hips that would fade. Still had a solitary streak of blue along her scalp, but it would come out when she washed her hair in the morning.

Lucretia didn’t see Lup and Taako until breakfast, and none of them decided their evenings needed to be explained to one another, so the day passed without incident.

Over the next few weeks, she and Magnus met a handful of times. Occasionally he would come over under the pretense of repairing something. He pressed her against the shelf in her library, the door firmly shut and locked this time, keen to finish what they’d started weeks ago.

As Candlenights approached, they began to discuss talking with her father. Lucretia had grown bolder with their visits, inviting Magnus upstairs to her room after sending her servants away. If the servants talked, then they talked. If they told her father, so be it. The world would carry on.

And she loved him, after all.

She _loved_ him _._

Magnus lay stretched out in her bed the week before her father was set to come home, idly stroking her hair. “Would you like it if I asked his permission to marry you?”

Lucretia turned to him. “Is that what you want? I thought you were interested in a courtship.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” he asked, kissing her temple.

“If bending me over every available surface in your studio counts as _courtship_ , then I suppose.”

Magnus chuckled. “I know, I know. It’s hardly proper--”

“To hell with proper,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his neck.

Magnus smiled. “To hell with proper.”

Lucretia sat up, covering her chest with the sheet. “I’d like it if you asked _my_ permission first.”

He grinned. “You progressive girls,” he said. “Always doing things out of order.” He sat up with her and sighed. “Alright.” He took her hands. “Lucretia. Lady of my heart, patron of my soul, champion of my love.” She rolled her eyes, but he leaned in and kissed her. “Marry me,” he said. “Marry me, and let me ravage you in a bed that’s ours. Let me paint you until we’re old, let me build the cribs our children will sleep in.” He held her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks and neck. “Let me build the house we’ll live in together, public opinion be _damned._ ”

“ _Magnus._ ”

“Will you?” he asked. “I promise to give you a proper ring, and a proper engagement--”

“What did we just say?” she murmured.

Magnus grinned. “Then give me your answer.”

Lucretia sighed, kissing him slow before she reached up to card her fingers through the hair she loved so much.

“Yes,” she said. “I will marry you.”

Magnus laughed and rolled her over. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” he said. “Now let me thank you properly.”

Lucretia smiled. “If you insist.”

 

* * *

 

She waited until a year after her sister was married. Maybe propriety meant little to them, but there was something to be said about upstaging your sister’s day. And Lucretia could wait. She had a great love to sustain her, after all.

Her father gave his permission, of course. The town talked about Captain Davenport’s daughter marrying a craftsman with no family, but it didn’t bother them. Magnus drew up plans for the house they’d build, once they had the land. Somewhere in the country, not too far from the school Lup and Barry had just broken ground on. Somewhere close enough to see her family when she wanted.

They’d live modestly, just the two of them until their own family grew -- and that was the way Lucretia wanted it to be.

A month before their wedding, they stood in Kravitz’s garden again, hands clasped together as they wandered between the rose bushes, reminiscing.

“I knew I loved you here,” he said. “I knew it had to be you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true.” They stopped and he kissed her forehead. “I wish I could propose all over again. I’d do it somewhere like this.”

“I’m very happy with my proposal, Mr. Burnsides.”

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Yes, I suppose it was good, wasn’t it?” He looked up and sighed. “Where will be, another year from now?”

“Building our house,” she said. “Hopelessly in love.”

He held her close. “I like the sound of both those things,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

Lucretia leaned against his chest and closed her eyes.

She liked them too.

**Author's Note:**

> title and lines from _say over again... sonnet 21_ by elizabeth barret browning  
>  tumblr @ weatheredlaw


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